


Sprawled Out On A Road With No End In Sight

by orphan_account



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Break Up, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Knifeplay, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 20:23:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1198494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>It was quite astonishing, really, what a few words from Enjolras could do to Grantaire.</em>
</p>
<p>A compilation of some of the words exchanged between Enjolras and Grantaire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sprawled Out On A Road With No End In Sight

It was quite astonishing, really, what a few words from Enjolras could do to Grantaire.

 

_Useless_ seemed to be a favourite, _burden_ too. But then again, so did _darling_ and _dearest_. Grantaire could say a few choice things about Enjolras, but then _hypocrite_ would be another insult that proved itself to be true.

 

Grantaire would claim that he never tried to get in the way, but he'd be a _liar_. He would kneel down on the thin carpet next to Enjolras's desk in his ramshackle flat with only his t-shirt left on. Whenever Enjolras left his hand dangling at his side, Grantaire would clutch at it and kiss it as he jerked himself off with his other hand, moaning quietly until Enjolras wrenched his hand free and slapped Grantaire's misshapen cheek.

 

It was better than the days when he would take the words said and hide with them in his own flat, which was even worse than Enjolras's, and stroke his cock as the things that Enjolras told him trickled into his brain like a dam breaking. Soon the floods arrived, and he would fuck his own fist while muffling his groans and sobs into his sleeve. After, he always lay on his bed and stared at the white staining his hands, still visible in the dim light coming from outside, and fill himself with even more self-loathing.

 

Sometimes the words would be hissed, though other times they were shouted across a room. It could be the kitchen, the bedroom, or even the back room of the Café de Musain where Enjolras met with his friends on a bi-weekly basis in order to plot overthrowing the government or something like that. Grantaire didn't really give a shit. He just flirted with Enjolras and poked holes in everything anyone said, waiting for the day he was kicked out.

 

At nights, _whore_ and _slut_ were murmured or screamed or moaned. Enjolras would handcuff him to the bedposts and ride him fast and hard. Other times, he would fuck Grantaire into the bed viciously, leaving enough bruises for their friends to ask questions, and for Grantaire to wave his hand and say _kinky sex life_. They didn't ask after that.

 

Enjolras would leave bruises, but Grantaire had left a red scar from the same blade he used to shred his wrists up. It was a simple R on Enjolras's left hip. That simple letter would speak words that were not yet invented, but it was a secret held only to Enjolras. Grantaire didn't know to what extent the thumb that stroked the scar could hurt Enjolras.

 

One day, Enjolras was going to say something, and Grantaire would say something else, and they would get into another of their shouting matches. However, this time, it would not resolve itself into fucking on a table or the floor or anywhere, but in swallowed-back apologies and too much pride and an _I think we should break up_ , which Grantaire could say nothing against because they both loved and hated each other in equal measure, but Grantaire's devotion to Enjolras went a lot further than how Enjolras would have fought for them to work if Grantaire had suggested the split. Grantaire was pathetic enough to obey and follow Enjolras, no matter how much harm it could do.

 

After their inevitable breakup, Grantaire would have nobody to stop him from drinking. Their friends would try, but they wouldn't be able to force him into anything.

 

He would drink himself to death.

 

He wouldn't know what would happen afterwards.

**Author's Note:**

> this was literally just an unbetaed word vomit i don't even want to reread it
> 
> Title taken from Unhappy Refrain by wowaka translated by vgperson
> 
> don't look at me
> 
> (also guess what happens after: enjolras finds the body)


End file.
